


A Study in Silence

by gladiatorAviator



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Oneshot, armin has a sad, armin screaming alone with trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladiatorAviator/pseuds/gladiatorAviator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weak things shatter easily. Armin struggles to put the pieces back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> A quick character study of Armin, going along with the whole "Armin screaming alone in the forest" thing. Enjoy!

The wind is Armin’s only companion. Quiet, it wraps around him, whispering softly in his ear and twisting gently around his fingers. Light flickers around him, the lantern warping the wind close to it and throwing it back in heated waves. Undergrowth crunches beneath his feet, twigs snapping, leaves rustling. There’s no need to be careful sneaking about, not now that the encampment is far behind his back.

That is the plan, after all.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, air puffing out in front of him, the cloud evaporating moments away from his mouth. Shadows dance around his little lantern light, flickering and fluttering into hundreds of indistinct shapes. The forest grows a ceiling in the low light, it seems, trunks becoming walls, vines into paintings, ferns and leaves into carpets and rugs. His steps become quicker, tap, tap, tapping on the ground in a hurried tempo. The walls begin to close in, the trunks shrinking and the hallways between growing dimmer until all that’s left is just the void of the unknown. 

He begins to run, his breaths rattling in his chest, heartbeat pounding in his ears. He glances back, and the darkness seems to be chasing him, like a foul beast ready to devour him whole. He runs, he runs until his feet give out beneath him and he crumples to the ground, shaking, too hot and too cold all at the same time. Blackness flits around the edges of his vision, like wolves encircling their prey, watching, waiting. 

It is patient, Armin supposes, this thing called sadness. 

He heaves for breath, eyes turned skyward. He watches the shadows flicker on the bottoms of the tree’s crowns, seeing everything and nothing in those shadows depths. He waits, but for what, he can’t say. The sky grows steadily darker, the lights in his eyes fading as he stares into the shadows for too long, images stuttering in and out of existence as his eyes tire of seeing the same thing. Defiantly, he keeps staring upward until blackness completely dominates his vision. Then, blinking, Armin tilts his head back down, watching the light of the lantern wink itself in and out of existence.

Sighing, he pulls himself up into a penitent kneel, closing the shutter of the lantern and plunging himself into the true dark of the night. Stars blink in the sky far above, as if each is an eye of a spirit languidly observing him. Armin looks away from the stars; each one flickers a wink and peers inside of him, picking apart the brittle lattices of his soul. He figures they can see past his feeble facade, the way he swallows down his weakness and pretends he is choking on the bitter cup of strength. The spirits know the horrors he faces, the way he freezes when he meets each one, how he has to consciously stop his body from shaking and force himself to move, to fight back. It isn’t courage; it is distilled fear that pumps through his veins, that coerces him to move or freezes him in place to die, screaming, helpless to peel himself away where he is standing.

The stars know these falsehoods. The stars know his shame.

Armin bows his head, unable to face the endless gaze of the sky. He folds his hands into his lap, clenching his hands into fists, feeling crescent moons imprinting onto his palms. He chokes on his breath, a broken sob escaping from his lips.

The wind brushes the hair out of his eyes, whispering softly into his ears. _What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What’s wrong?_ Armin shakes his head, letting his hair cover his eyes again. He feels the wetness of tears on his pants before he realizes he’s crying. Tears slip down his cheeks and off his chin, pitter-pattering to the ground like rain. Instinctively, he tries to silence his sobs, placing his hands over his mouth and choking on his breath before he realizes there's no need to fake strength, not here in the uncaring depths of the woods. 

He lets his hands fall back to his knees, then slip to the ground. His sobs grow in volume, hiccuping high-pitched breaths amid his raspy cries. Tears continue to fall, chilling his face as they leave tracks on his cheeks, wet and numbing. His eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness, but each limb and leaf still look as if their arms are spread menacingly, ready to thrust their fingers down his collar and suffocate him. He feels his heartbeat pound in the back of his head, each hurried swallow sliding past the lump in his throat. The knot in his chest rises, crescendoing within him, until it bursts from his lips, emotions bottled up for far too long escaping in raw, shattering wails. 

The wind turns cold, hissing back at him as he lets himself cry, forcing open his throat and taking up residence in the newly open pit in his stomach. He gasps between sobs, the cold air freezing inside him and growing spirals of frost in time with his heartbeat, spreading like venom in his veins. He shivers, picking himself up and wrapping his arms around himself, as if the simple shield of crossed arms could protect him from the darkness of the world, the rotten core of saccharine smiles and glittering eyes, gemstones and steel cutting his frail frame asunder, weakness and fear spilling out like a neverending river. Armin clenches his hands, digging fingernails into the sides of his skin, unable to plug his pathetic vulnerability, his raw screams echoing throughout the woods, his tears still falling freely from his face.

Perhaps if he was able to move quicker, be stronger, figure out things faster, he could have been able to save more people. All it would take would be just one misstep, one mistake and he’d fall back into the mouth of a Titan, or be tossed against the cold, cracked ground like a forgotten child’s toy, bleeding and broken, unnecessary and unneeded.

The wind growls at him, biting his nose and stinging his cheeks. No, perhaps that would be too cowardly. He doesn’t want to die a coward. The cold seeps into him, chilling him to his spot in the forest, his choking, helpless screams turning to breathless wails, then to softer sobs and quiet sniffles. With considerable effort, he lifts his head, wiping away his tears with a dirty sleeve, stuffing down his cowardice for another day, another night alone with only the woods to hear his cries. He releases the shutter of the lantern, blinking hard as harsh light envelops him, a fake halo for a fallen angel. 

Armin stands up, sighing heavily. He feels released, the knot that encircled him loosened enough for him to take another breath, to keep on living, for now. He faces back towards the encampment, the sky through the trees beginning to stain pink. Biting his lip, Armin sets his shoulders, letting his mask slip onto his face with each step he takes, plastering strip after strip and letting it dry, bending his posture into one of indifference. A tired smile graces Armin’s lips. Perhaps he is as strong as plaster, faking strength with a hollow center.

A lie, but an effective one.


End file.
